


A Bridge

by TheScorpion



Category: Interview With the Vampire (1994), Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:37:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21507544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheScorpion/pseuds/TheScorpion
Summary: 1850. Louis unexpectedly meets Lestat on a bridge in New Orleans during a late evening walk.
Relationships: Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	A Bridge

Muted trumpet music flowed in time with the shimmering of the golden orange lights caught in black ripples of the Mississippi. The Dixie melody sang too mournfully for a night of such pleasant air. Louis paused to listen to it on an otherwise deserted section of the promenade, where the wood creaked gently and faded banners fluttered on their crisscrossing strings between lamp posts. Something nostalgic struck him about the tune. If it had been played with the energy of youth, it might have been like one Louis had heard long ago. An approaching riverboat churned up the water, and soon drew near enough to drown out all other sounds, frothing away the golden lights as it passed. By the time the noise faded, the music was also gone.

Louis began to walk again toward where the pathway planks curved up into a bridge that spanned an inlet. Four faceless people passed him with tapping of canes and rustling of skirts, their clicking footsteps as rich on the wood as their gay conversation was in the air until they too faded behind.

Someone else stood on the bridge. He'd paused at the pinnacle of its railing to watch the glitter and cacophony of a party on the docks across the river. Surely he could not see more than the lights, could not hear the whispers of laughter and banjos that made their way to Louis’s unique ears. Or so Louis might have thought if the person had been as faceless as the others and not just so happened to be Lestat.

Louis stopped abruptly, and it was a moment before he could speak. “What are you doing here?”

Looking over his shoulder in surprise, then past Louis at the four people who were turning off the walkway, Lestat shook his head. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Perhaps they both should have laughed, but the only sounds remained the creaking of the wood and the lapping of the water against the beams below. Then the trumpet's strains rose again.

Quietly, Louis joined Lestat at the center of the bridge and rested his hands on the railing. “Claudia is at home,” he said after a minute. “She took the newspaper when I was done with it.”

Nodding, Lestat's gaze drifted out across the water. “I didn’t know you came down here anymore.”

“Sometimes.” Louis looked at his hands and then aside. “And you?” For the first time, he noticed that Lestat held a little pink paper bag.

“Oh, all the time.” A frown creased Lestat’s brow and he glanced at Louis, then looked past him again, but the people were gone. “Louis…”

“What is that?” Louis cut him off, his eyes still on the bag.

Lestat set it on the railing between them with a crinkle of tissue. “Just something I thought she’d like.” The guttering lamp on the beam above caught the pink giftwrap’s gold embossing.

Louis sighed and shook his head.

Lestat did laugh then, and reaching around the bag, his hand covered Louis’s on the railing. “I’ll walk back home with you.”

Louis nodded, but his eyes lingered on the bag and then fell to the golden spots on the water below.

A moment later, Lestat’s hand slipped away to rest on the railing, but he smiled. The music, as slow as it was, played on. “Do you still come here in the summer?” he asked after listening to it for another minute or two.

“No.” Louis looked up at him. “Too many people.”

“Not when it’s late.” He faced Louis, leaning against the railing. The lights shone the same against the side of his hair as they did in the water.

“Watch out.” Louis pointed to the bag between his hand and where Lestat’s elbow rested. “You’ll knock it in the river.”

Lestat shook his head, but he took a moment to turn the little gift sideways instead. His fingertips picked at a fold in the tissue until it was perfect.

“What’s in it?” Louis asked with gentle curiosity.

Lestat only smirked and met his eyes. He lifted a hand to brush a small leaf from Louis’s shoulder with the same care he’d paid the tissue. “There are colored lanterns along this bridge in the summer.”

Louis exhaled in another soft sigh and turned his gaze back to the water. “Yes…”

His fingers lingering against Louis’s sleeve, Lestat’s eyes caught the lamplight. “You kissed me once here.”

Looking up and across the river, Louis’s brows knit. “I don’t remember that.”

The banners ruffled above them. Lestat was still for a long moment, but then his shoes scraped quietly against the wood as he turned to put his hands back on the railing. Somewhere, the trumpet still played, but another boat came and went, and by the time the churning faded, the music again had stopped. Every now and then, the scent in the air changed as a moth met its end in the softly hissing gas flame above. The glittering across the river gradually began to dissipate.

“Have any money on you?”

The sound of Lestat’s voice startled Louis, but he only looked up at him slowly before nodding and turning from the railing to take a bundle of folded bills from his jacket.

“Don’t tell me you completely emptied your own pockets on that.” Louis glanced to the bag between them as he offered the money so Lestat could withdraw what he needed from it.

“Why not?” Lestat took the entire thing and stuffed it into his coat before turning away. “Be sure she gets it, won’t you?” He started off down the other side of bridge.

Louis’s hand fell to his side. The soft thuds of Lestat’s footfalls echoed in the center of his chest. “Where are you going?”

A backwards flip of his hand was the only answer Lestat offered.

“Lestat,” Louis called after him as he stepped away from the railing as far as the center of the planks.

“See you tomorrow, Louis.” Lestat did not look back as he paused at the end of the bridge. He chose the corner to the left, and then he was out of sight.

Louis might have called to him again, but two more people were approaching on the walkway behind him. They were arm in arm, one was laughing, and then the music started playing once more. Louis moved back to the bag and stared at it until the strangers had passed. Their footsteps echoed off the bridge in the same direction Lestat’s had gone.

Turning away from the railing, Louis walked back the way he had come. He made it all the way to the end of the bridge before he stopped under a lamp. The scent in the air changed as one more moth hissed into ash. And yet, the distant trumpet melody seemed more familiar than before. Sighing, Louis turned around and returned to the top of the bridge, his wooden footsteps matching every other beat of his own heart. He picked up the bag. It was heavier than it had looked.

Another boat was drawing near, but Louis would not stay long enough to hear the music die again. He walked back home alone.


End file.
